


Small Choices

by Violinox (NikiAlexander)



Series: Small Choices [2]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, F/M, M/M, POV Second Person, Pre-OT3, The Worst Thing Elliot Ever Did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24902947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikiAlexander/pseuds/Violinox
Summary: Elliot reflects on the worst thing he's ever done.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Series: Small Choices [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759867
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Small Choices

The kid looks just like Damien Moreau. From the black hair, to the sharp jawline, to the black suit without a jacket, like he was to busy to remember it and to rich to go back for it. Elliot follows behind him not as a persona, but as himself. His body still easily slips into the mannerisms and speech of Moreau’s hitter. 

Elliot attempted to explain to Parker and Hardison why this wasn’t the best idea. They insisted if he couldn’t handle it, they would think of something else. What was he supposed to say? What good is a Hitter who can’t follow the plan? So here Elliot was, walking behind the kid, Justin, as his personal bodyguard. 

The hallway is full of mirrors. Mirrors remind Elliot of faded Carnival music and lost little girls slowly moving away like second chances. Yet, he can’t stop looking at himself. He walks exactly two steps behind Justin, dressed better then he has in years. Justin has lost himself on a rant, and through the mirror, Elliot can see his eyes. The kid should invest in some shades. 

Moreau always used to wear shades. His eyes were so expressive, it was easy for an opponent to call his bluff. As they got older, he got better, except when he got a new idea. Whenever he’d come up with a plan, made some new development, his pupil’s expanded and lost a bit of focus. Elliot liked to joke, his own intelligence turned him on. Moreau never disagreed. 

Justin’s pupils are blown out wide as he hammers Elliot with questions. It’s clear that he wants to build up his own Moreau-style empire. And isn’t this funny? Elliot had always wondered what made a man like Moreau. When do you choose to value power and profit over people?

Justin stops at a bench and sits down. The moment is a bit jarring because for a moment he looks his age. The persona of collected businessman falls away and Elliot sees the eighteen-year-old in over his head. Justin looks at Elliot, expectant. Elliot sits beside him. 

“What was it like to work for Damien Moreau?” Justin asked. 

“Don’t know.”

Justin gets an irritated look on his face. Elliot had been avoiding his questions the entire trip. It seems like avoidance is no longer going to work.

“Just give me something. Tell me a job, a story, anything. I just want to understand him.” 

The dark black pupils resting in almond eyes are what convince him. “A story, I can do that…”

You will be standing outside of the target’s house. The streetlights have been on for hours and a car hasn’t come down the street for a while. The final light in the house will turn off. You’ll think you're making a decision, but you aren’t. It’s already been decided. Approach the house and remember you’ve done this a dozen times before. 

Bend down at the door and pick the lock. Just like trying to get the good snacks from your dad’s room as a kid. Just like getting candy for your first real crush. Just like childhood. When the door opens, have your gun ready. Never pull your gun up until your ready to fire.

Walk up the stairs, and remember to put your back to the far wall. Just in case one of the doors open, an unsuspecting family member going for a midnight snack. 

You’ll make it through clear and arrive at the first door. Open it quickly, so the hinges don’t have a chance to creak. A man and woman will lie on the bed, odd because of how generic they look. Both with mossy brown hair, soft features, without the worry lines that come from an interesting life. What was a middle-class man doing involved with someone like Moreau? It doesn’t matter, it’s not your business. 

Pull up your gun. Point it at the woman first, she hasn’t done anything wrong. As you pull the trigger, think about how grateful she should be that she doesn’t have to witness the death of the rest of the family. You will take a moment to mourn her. This will be a mistake. 

Her death jostle’s the husband awake. He’ll force you to look him in the eye as he begs for his life. Let your heart fill with resentment, it’s his choice to deal with Moreau that got all of you into this mess. Pull the trigger. 

A light will come through the bedroom door. You’ll hear the soft patter of feet, as the oldest tries to get her younger brother. Walk down the hall. The lights will turn off because they think there’s still a chance to hide. You’ll wonder if you should let them. Keep walking. 

As you arrive in the room, open this door slow. The room will be a mess, clothes and toys scattered around. Go to the bed, bend down, and look. When it’s empty scan the room, then pretend to head to the door. There will be a slight breath of relief from the closet. 

Move quickly, before they can process what’s happening. Rip open the closet door. The oldest will be standing in front of her brother with a knife. She’ll have her father’s mud-brown eyes, hair tangled from sleep, and pajamas she’s growing out of. You don’t know if she’ll grow up to be brave, maybe even become someone who catches people like you. It doesn’t matter. Put a bullet through her eyes. 

The youngest will scramble to get away. He’ll entangle himself in the clothes on his bedroom floor. In his final moments, he’ll regret not cleaning up after himself when his mother said. He will wish he had learned to listen to his parents earlier, instead, he’ll take the lesson to his grave. You won’t realize this until later.

Instead, you’ll be looking at black pupils, rested in almond eyes. Instead, you’ll realize this boy looks exactly like Damien Moreau. And you’ll finally realize that only one person made a choice tonight: you. 

Justin is staring at Elliot. His face is fighting with itself, struggling for control, but his slow realization clear to anyone looking for it. Suddenly, Justin is speed walking down the hallway. Unwilling to look at any of the mirrors. 

Elliot wants to tell him he understands. He had a father who was very interested in the title of a father but not in the responsibility. Who had demands of what it meant to be a good son but no expectations of being a good father. He gets the betrayal of realizing there was only one path for your father’s love and knowing you can’t go down it. 

Justin doesn’t want to hear that. So, Elliot follows exactly two steps behind and hopes he made the right choice.


End file.
